Sam meets the girl of his dreams Literally
by Taco Tilly
Summary: Having had visions of each other for more than two years, when Sam and Lyla meet all hell breaks loose. Lyla, who is intent upon living a vision free life, insists she doesn't know him while Sam tries everything he can to convince her to trust him. Their destinies are entwined, each fated to play a role in yellow eyes master plan. Sam/OC with funny Dean and cute Dog!
1. Chapter 1

**Sam meets the girl of his dreams, literally. **

**Having had visions of each other for more than two years, when Sam and Lyla meet all hell breaks loose. Lyla, who is intent upon living a vision free life, insists she doesn't know him while Sam tries everything he can to convince her to trust him. Little do they know the future that is in store for them and how closely their destinies are entwined. Sam/OC with funny Dean and a super cute golden retriever named Bob. Need I say more!**

_She smelt the smoke before she saw it. It snuck its way through every crack of the decrepit cabin wall, quickly filling the room with its wretched stench. By the time the first flames began to lick maliciously against the old pine, Lyla truly began to panic. Pulling violently at the coarse rope bindings that dug into her tender flesh, she whimpered in a type of panicked despair as they remained firmly intact. _

"_Sam, they won't budge!" she shrieked to her companion who was also furiously working behind his back. Looking up at her through his mattered, bloodied hair, she saw the first signs of true panic. There was no way out of this one and they both knew it. He shifted his body closer to her, as if to shield her from the coming flames and looking into her green eyes with his own brown ones._

"_Lyla... I..." _

_But his words cut short as they took in the sight of the giant wave of fire rocketed towards them..._

"SAM!" yelled Lyla, bursting from her bed and crumbling to the floor in a sweaty mess. Clasping her head in her hands, she breathed deeply as she always did and attempted to reorient herself. It had been a dream, just another dream. Jumping slightly as a warm, wet nose was pressed against her cheek; she turned to find her ever loyal bedtime co-pilot.

"Bad one" she mumbled, choking back a sob as she buried her face in his golden fur. Bob leant into the hug, nuzzling her head in his usual concerned fashion and pushing her in the direction of her bed.

"Can't go back to sleep, Bob. Not tonight." Rising to her feet gingerly, she flicked on her bedside lamp and pulled on her favourite hoodie over her old nightshirt. Bob stretched back on his hind legs, obviously in disagreement about the idea of returning to sleep but followed her companionably into the next room. Taking his usual perch on nights such as these, on the left side of the small floral couch, he waited patiently for Lyla to calm down enough to sit.

But Lyla was far from calm. It had been a long time since she had dreamt of Sam, weeks or maybe months. And never before had she been present in these scenarios. Never had they spoken or even looked at each other. Why had this been different? Had it been a vision or was she simply so put out at not having seen Sam in her sleep for so long that she had simply written her own version of their next encounter? Rubbing her eyes in frustration, she turned to her stove and lit a match to light the burner. As the red wick burst into light, Lyla jumped back in fright as a tirade of images from her dream flooded her senses. The smell of the thick smoke which made her eyes water, the scorching heat of the wall of fire as it connected with her flesh...

Shaking herself awake, Lyla lit the burner and slammed the kettle down with more force than necessary. It was just a dream, she chided herself. Just another wacky file to add to the ever ballooning folder in her mind marked "weird". And really, in the scheme of things, was this so weird? I mean, she had witnessed far crazier things. Pouring the steaming hot water over the tea bag and into her favourite green mug, Lyla frowned as she remembered the last year past.

How, as if overnight, she began to have the most vivid of dreams. Images of violence, despair and death which had plagued her almost every night. Brushing them aside as an overactive imagination or the effects of watching too many violent movies, Lyla had continued on with her daily life, unaffected. That was until she opened the paper to find the front page splashed with her nightmare's victims. Beaten and bloodied, their corpses blared angrily from the black and white images in front of her, mocking her for blasé attitude. Hoping to confirm her hopeful assumption of mere coincidence, Lyla had researched her other dreams and was chilled to discover their existence outside of her dreamland. Piles of bodies from months of dreaming flashed across her laptop screen. Men, women and children throughout the country, who had been slaughtered in their own beds. It was then that she had decided to assist these people, for what other purpose could she be having these dreams, than to help them avoid their messy fates.

And so she had. For months she researched and found the people she saw in her dreams and did everything she could to help them dodge death's plan for them. She learnt quickly that it could not simply be a matter of warning them (as strangely, very few people would heed the warnings of a 23 year old waitress from Memphis) but a matter of pushing them in the right direction. She had locked people in their apartments, hidden car keys, made false telephone calls from police stations across America advising her dream's victims to stay inside due to serial killers on the loose in their area... For 8 months she had worked around the clock to keep people safe and for the most part had succeeded. However with every saved life, there was another lost. She watched as dozens of people lived out her visions and were slaughtered through various means. Lyla felt the pain of these losses radiate throughout her body where they would fester silently like cancerous cells, until on nights such as these, they would consume her in an agonising grief so crippling she could not leave the house.

It was nights such as these, that frustrated her boyfriend the most.

"Why do you care" He would ask as he watched her cry over the morning paper's deaths. "You didn't even know these people?" Lyla didn't know why, but she had never shared with Nick, the true nature of her night terrors. She had never entrusted him with her secret shame and thus could never explain why she felt their loss so heavily within herself. His scornful looks over the breakfast table had grown all too custom and she had quickly ended their relationship. Deputy Sherriff Nicholas St Claire had not taken this well, never having experienced rejection in his 25 years until this moment. To say, their break up was a messy one, would be a major understatement. Lyla rubbed her left wrist unconsciously, as she remembered how he had crushed it tightly in his pudgy sweaty hand as he told her he'd be back.

Shaking herself from this uneasy remembrance, Lyla picked up her tea and padded her way over to the couch. Bob shuffled aside to make room before placing his soft head in her lap and closing his eyes to rest as was their routine. Dunking her teabag repetitively, Lyla thought back to the promise she had made herself not three months ago. She was not to interfere with other people's lives and was going to live the life of a normal human being. She would ignore her visions and doing so they would undoubtedly go away. And for the most part, it worked. Aside from her regular dream dalliances with Sam, the visions of death and violence had greatly lessened over the course of the last few months. It was only two or three times per lunar cycle now that her sleep was invaded by these terrors. She knew it was by this schedule because Fran, her elderly neighbour kept her diligently informed of such events. As a self proclaimed Wiccan, she was rich with advice on how to avoid "scary sleeping" as she called it. Lyla had been weighed down in charms choked down numerous herbal teas since mentioning in passing that she had trouble sleeping and despite a reluctance to believe that it was Fran's potpourri of herbs that led to her dreamless nights, she was comforted by the older woman's presence in her house and gladly accepted her offers. Rubbing Bob's silky ears, her thoughts drifted back to Sam. She wondered, as she always did, why it was that he came to her in her sleep. With his brown shaggy hair, caring eyes and toned physique, he was by no means an unwelcome addition in her mind, yet his appearance frequently left her confused and disorientated. He spoke of monsters, demons and magic, a world of darkness and despair... and yet... his presence was always strangely comforting in her mind. She felt an undefinable bond between them, a bond she had never questioned since she began dreaming about him two years ago. That was, until now. Why was she in this dream with him? What could it mean?

Noticing with a start that her tea had gone cold during her long bout of contemplation, Lyla decided that perhaps she should try and fall back asleep. She was working a ten hour shift at the diner tomorrow. Rousing Bob, who begrudgingly hopped off the couch and headed straight for the bedroom, Lyla stood and trudged back to bed, turning the lights off along the way. Snuggling under the covers she listened for Bob's steady breathing before closing her eyes and falling into a dreamless sleep.

A few hundred miles away, Sam awoke with a similar level of agitation. Sitting up quickly, he cradled his still aching head in his hands as he attempted to piece together what he had just seen. She had been in his dream again. And this time, he had been there too. Sam closed his eyes as he tried to clutch on to the memories that were already leaking away.

They had been inside some kind of cabin, tied to posts next to each other. Then the fire had come, bringing with it a heat so intense neither of them could breathe. He rubbed his arms uncomfortably as he remembered its contact with his skin. The way the flames had consumed them almost instantly...

Swinging around to place his feet on the dingy motel carpet, Sam looked for the first time over at Dean's sleeping form, wondering if his dream had woken him like they so often did. The bellowing snorts that emerged from under his covers, suggested otherwise. Looking down at his watch which cheerfully told him it was 5:30am, Sam inwardly groaned as he picked up a pile of clothes and headed for the bathroom. Stripping quickly, he sighed in content as he stood under the piping hot spray of water. His thoughts once again turned to his dream girl, Lyla. Never before had he seen himself in his dreams of her, and his sudden appearance startled Sam. It had felt like a vision, he realised as he rubbed the shampoo through his hair. Not simply a vivid dream like they were usually, but an actual vision. But that was impossible wasn't it? Hadn't he decided more than a year ago, that she was simply a made up creation by his mind? Her regular appearances in his sleep of more than two years, was merely his mind's attempt to offer relief from the horror of his other dreams, right?

Not that his dreams of Lyla had always been pleasant he thought with a frown. He had seen flashes of Lyla's childhood ... the death of her mother, the drunken violence of her father, the intimidation of a boyfriend... It wasn't exactly peaches and cream, white picket fence stuff... And yet every time Sam awoke from her dream visits, he couldn't help but feel comforted by her presence. His thoughts of Lyla really kept him from going insane with worry over his own life. His visions, his father's death, Dean's anger... it was nice to think of somebody else and their normal life for a change.

Shaking himself from his stupor, he stepped out of the shower and towelled himself dry. Buttoning up his warm flannel shirt, Sam decided that he needed to find a hunt. They had taken a break for the last couple of days to regroup and rest, but he was ready now to go back into the world. In fact, he felt deep in his bones that someone needed their help out there and that with every second wasted on sleep, their chances of survival dwindled. Firing up his laptop, he began his usual routine of checking newspapers throughout the country for strange deaths and disappearances. A few hours later, after a few cups of crappy motel coffee, he struck gold. More than twenty people were missing in the tri-state area, all having disappeared within the last month. All aged 23-25 and each residence showing no sign of a break in. These facts alone did not make a strong case for supernatural involvement but the casual mention of a sulphuric residue found in multiple homes immediately peaked his interest. Demons.

Snapping his laptop closed, he turned to his sleeping brother with a frown. Eyes lighting up as inspiration hit, he crept to his bedside table and set the Elvis inspired alarm clock for a few minutes from now. Sam then sat back down on his bed and began packing his few belongings into his bag.

"YOU AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A HOUND DOG!" Blared the radio a few minutes later, causing Dean to launch from bed only to fall in a crumbled mess on the floor.

"Oh, hey Dean" Sam said through a grin "Didn't realise you were up"

Dean looked up at him through slitted eyes, oozing annoyance. "What the hell, Sammy?"

"Got a hunt" Sam responded shortly, zipping up his bag and placing it on his shoulders. Dean looked up at him suspiciously, but got up and began to get ready.

"Where are we headed?" He grumbled, buttoning up his jeans.

"The nearest library" stated Sam, heading out to the car.

"And where's that?" Dean called impatiently

"Memphis"

Lyla awoke a few short hours later to the gentle yet persistent nudging of a furry head. Opening her eyes wearily, she couldn't help but let a giggle escape her as her whole vision was consumed by the smiling face of her golden retriever.

"Hey buddy" She croaked, reaching out to pat him on the head. Taking this as a clear invitation, Bob launched himself at her face which he covered in loving, doggy slobbers. She laughed loudly as they fell into a playful wrestle which ended as it always did with Bob simply sitting on her.

"Alright, alright!" She laughed "You win" And just like that, she was ready for the day. Stepping lightly out of bed and stretching, Lyla began her normal morning routine. While Bob was outside doing his business (and undoubtedly checking on Fran next door for the possibility of a morning treat), Lyla jumped in the shower and brushed her teeth. Pulling her hair back in a simple ponytail, she then threw on her uniform for work. Stopping for a moment to ponder her reflection, she smoothed the lines of her pale blue dress and apron and frowned at the mirror. It could be worse, she mused. Years of track at high school had left her with a decent figure which she maintained through her regular walks with Bob. Her reddish brown hair fell in easy waves which depending on the day and weather could be mostly maintained with a good hairbrush and her face, though plain, was relatively attractive.

"Ok" she whispered to herself as she did every morning "Here we go"

Grabbing an apple for herself and a biscuit for Bob, she closed the front door of her tiny cottage and locked it securely. The small yellow weatherboard house, surrounded in wild flowers was the very essence of home. Though not showy or extravagant, it was more than Lyla had ever hoped for. Crunching across the gravel path, through their communal garden, she made her way over to Fran's equally small yet quaint cottage where she knew she would find Bob. His excited barks confirmed this as she rounded the corner and took in the scene before her. Fran was sitting on her favourite swing on the front porch of her house, muffin in one hand and dog bone in the other. Bob was dancing in excitement in front of her, his eyes never leaving the dangling treat.

"Morning" Lyla called as she approached. Fran looked up at her through her bespectacled eyes and smiled warmly.

"Well there you are girly, Bob and I was just talkn' bout you" She rearranged her fluffy green robe and patted the seat next to her.

"Oh yes?" Lyla said easing herself down in the limited space not taken up by Fran "And what did Bob have to say?

"Said you work too damn hard and could use a muffin" Fran responded quickly, plopping the warm baked good in Lyla's lap. "Apple and rhubarb, baked fresh this morning" And with that she threw the dog bone into the garden, a considerable distance for a woman of her age. Bob immediately took off in search of his present. As he disappeared through the bushes, all that remained of him was his tail, wagging madly in the air.

Lyla bit into the muffin gratefully, savouring the subtle sweetness of the cinnamon and nutmeg.

"Rhubarb, good for your sexual vitality" Fran winked at her, settling herself more comfortably so she could take a good look at her young neighbour. Dark around the eyes and slightly pale, she asserted with mild concern.

"You need to have a sex life, to have sexual vitality Fran" Lyla chuckled, indulging herself in more small bites.

"Well you'd have one, if you stopped working every once in a while" Fran chided "Could go out on the town, take in a show... have dinner... All men aren't like our own Nicholas St Claire" she added with disgust.

Lyla got to her feet and whistled for Bob, knowing where this conversation was headed.

"Thanks for the muffin, Fran. Don't worry about me, I'm fine. I've got Bob to keep me company"

"Bob and that dream boy of yours" Fran chuckled as the telltale blush passed over Lyla's pale complexion.

"Don't be silly Fran" Lyla said, attempting an eye roll. "C'mon Bob!" she called to the bushes "Time for work!" She smiled as he rounded the corner, proudly parading his prize.

"You spoil him" Lyla laughed as Bob dropped the bone long enough to give Fran a kiss goodbye, before picking it up again and heading down the path towards the road.

"He deserves it" Smiled Fran.

"We'll see you later. I'm working a late shift so don't wait up" Lyla called, catching up to Bob who stood patiently at the gate.

"I'm making chille! I'll save you a bowl" Fran responded, disregarding her last comment. "You take care, you hear!"

"Will do" Lyla answered with a smile.

The walk into town was a reasonably short and pretty one. Passing various fields and farms, Bob and Lyla fell into the comfortable tread they always did. Reaching the local diner in which she worked, Lyla turned and crouched down to her faithful companion.

"Be good" She instructed, rubbing his ears for good measure "I'll see you later"

Bob smiled through the bone in his mouth, before standing guard in his usual patch of sun next to the front entrance where he lay down and began chewing his bone.

Straightening her apron, Lyla opened the diner door with a cheery clang of the bell and made her way behind the counter. Smoothing back her hair, she grabbed her pad and launched herself into the hustle and bustle of the regular morning crowd. Calling her hellos to the other waitresses and Sal, the burly and permanently grumpy chef in the kitchen, she began taking orders, refilling coffees and handing out hot plates of food. She listened to young children's stories about school and answered their parents when they asked after Fran. It was a small town. Everyone knew everyone, and that was how she liked it.

Before she knew it, it had reached the lunchtime crowd and Lyla was running from table to table, balancing plates of food. She was too busy to notice the two, young out of towners come through and be herded to a booth down the back of the diner

"Finally" Dean muttered as they passed the 'Welcome to Memphis' sign on the dusty old road. They had been driving for hours and his stomach was just about ready to start eating itself.

"Where's the nearest grub?" He wondered aloud, driving slowly throughout the streets, his eyes scanning his surrounds like the hunter that he was.

"There" Sam said, pointing ahead. "That little diner"

"Jackpot!" Dean grinned squeezing the Impala neatly into a tight car space. "Lets do this thing!" Promptly stepping out of the car and pulling on his weathered leather jacket, he quickly began making his way over towards the smell of French fries and onion rings. Sam trailed behind, frowning as he tried to remember why the diner seemed so familiar to him. Must have passed through here before he decided.

Lying down next to the front entrance was a golden retriever, happily chewing on his bone. Sam smiled down at him and leant down to rub him behind the ears in what felt like a natural gesture. The dog leant into his touch and smiled toothily at him.

"C'mon Sam. Let's leave Fido alone and go get some food" Said Dean impatiently, jumped from foot to foot.

"Dean, does he look familiar to you?" Sam asked, looking up at his brother while he continued to pat the silky ears.

"Yeah..." Dean said slowly "He kinda looks like, I don't know, maybe a dog?"

"No Dean, I'm serious. I've seen this dog before" Sam insisted, standing back up with a frown.

"Oh really?" said Dean sceptically "This exact dog, eh?" Lowering down, he leant out a hand. "You've seen this ugly..." He was cut short as the golden retriever barked loudly and crouched down into a growl.

"Touchy" Dean said, standing back up while Sam snorted back a laugh.

"Ok well I'm gonna let you guys catch up," Dean continued, opening the door "I'm hungry". Staring at the golden retriever (who had returned to chewing his bone) for another moment, Sam shook himself and followed his brother through the door, still ajar.

Inside was a madhouse. It must have been peak hour as it appeared half the town had squeezed itself into the cramped, retro building.

"Eating in or taking away?" asked a young, bleach blonde waitress at the counter, huskily.

"In" Dean smiled at her while Sam looked away in mild disgust.

"Right this way" she purred, sashaying her hips as she led them to the back of the diner, into the last booth. Placing two menus on the table slowly enough to give time for Dean to notice her ample cleavage, she smiled a knowing smile.

"Be right back, sugar"

"Well she's getting a tip" Dean grinned up at Sam. But Sam was too busy looking around the diner and frowning.

"Sam, you missed it" Dean tried again "I said she's getting a... oh forget it" he said in defeat as Sam continued to pay him no attention whatsoever.

"Have we been here before?" Sam asked as though Dean had not spoken.

"Memphis?" Dean queried "Don't think so. Only ever passed through, never stopped."

"Hmm..." Sam offered in response. They looked down at their menus and peered at their choices with interest as a waitress approached.

"Can I help..." CRASH! Sam and Dean jumped as a coffee pot smashed to the floor. Looking up, they caught a glance of reddish brown hair immediately crouch down to begin wiping up the mess.

"Sorry!" Squeaked the voice, obscured by her hair. Dean looked wide eyed at Sam and then continued looking at his menu.

"No problem" He said comfortably "We weren't really in the coffee mood anyway" Sam peered down at the young girl on her knees and offered her some napkins.

"Here, looks like you got yourself pretty good there" he said kindly. Either she didn't see them, or she was ignoring his offer, as she continued to pick up the pieces of glass and place them in a tea towel.

"What have you done now, Lyla?" Called the blonde waitress who had seated them.

"Lyla?" Sam repeated dumbly. Peering down again, at the young woman on the floor, he watched as she seemed to visibly stiffen. Looking up at him through a wispy fringe, were two very familiar green eyes.

"I'll just go wash up" She mumbled, getting quickly to her feet and heading toward the kitchen.

"Wait!" Sam called, more desperately than he had intended, but she had already disappeared into some kind of back room. It was Lyla

Lyla hadn't really been concentrating as she made her way over to the last booth to offer them coffee. She had been planning a pie recipe she had been meaning to try out in her head, pumpkin with a chocolate crust... As she neared them, Lyla plastered the usual welcoming smile on her face and began to offer them coffee when she saw him. Shaggy brown hair and overly intense eye assessing the menu. It was Sam! Before she knew what was happening, the coffee pot had slipped from her hand and fallen with a deafening crash to the floor. Lyla fell to her knees instantly and began cleaning the mess. 'Sam was real and Sam was here' her mind played on repetition as she quickly picked up the pieces. This was not good, so not good. She wasn't going to live a life governed by her visions! She had been doing so well! Lyla couldn't let herself get involved with him in any way. She would simply... And then he said her name and she couldn't help but look up at him. She looked into those warm brown eyes and was startled when she saw what looked like the beginnings of recognition there. What! How could he know who she was? She had to get out of here.

"I'll just go wash up" She mumbled, jumping to her feet and speed walking to the hot kitchen. She heard him call her and quickened her pace. What was he doing here? How could he recognise her?

"I have to go home" She found herself saying suddenly to Sal as he stirred pots and flipped burgers. Not waiting for an answer, Lyla grabbed her coat and walked out the back in a daze, deaf to Sal's shouts behind her. Rounding the corner into the car park, she whistled for Bob who bounced gaily over to her and began her escape at a steady pace. She didn't know where she was going. Just away, she had to be away. Anywhere but here, where he was. Refusing to let herself think about the meaning of Sam's presence her e in her hometown, Lyla focused all her attention on placing one foot in front of the other. She just had to get home. Bob must have sensed her discomfort, as his happy walk turned quickly into a steady march, flanking her body the entire stretch home.

When she reached her front gate, Lyla could barely breathe. Dragging in deep breathes of oxygen; she opened her front door and sunk to the floor against it, as it closed. Bob whined and circled her, nudging various parts of her body as if searching for her hurt. He stopped after a few minutes in defeat, choosing instead to drape himself over her shivering form to offer the only thing he could, his warmth.

It was like she was paralysed. Lyla's body simply shut down as panic consumed her. Sam couldn't be here. He just couldn't! Part of her had always known deep down that he was real and that her dreams were not simply her imagination run wild, yet his presence here still remained a shock. Her heart constricted in her chest as she remembered last night's dream. They had been together and... It was a vision, she realized with a start. It was a warning of what was to come. What an idiot she'd been...

But what could she do? She couldn't simply pretend not to know him... or could she? Timidly, she reached out to pat Bob as an idea formed in her head. Sam had not recognized her she assured herself, she was just being silly. Why would he recognize her? He would not look for her, what reason would he have to do so? Sam was passing through town. That was all. He'd be gone within 24 hours no doubt. Lyla would simply stay out of his way until then. If they weren't together, the vision could not come true. All she had to do was avoid him. Simple. Easy. She would call Sal and explain that she had suddenly taken ill and would not be able to come in. She would bunker down for the next two days, giving him plenty of time for him and his brother to leave and that would be that. It would be a good opportunity to catch up on her reading, she mused. Yes. It was decided. Sam Winchester most definitely would not look for her.

"Ok" Dean said slowly, placing his hands on the steering wheel as he frowned "One more time"

"Dean!" Sam whined, placing his hand over his eyes impatiently.

"Just once more" Dean insisted "You have been dreaming about the klutz waitress for the past two years?"

"Yes" Sam confirmed

"Dreaming about her living out her normal apple pie life bla bla bla?" Dean continued

"Well I wouldn't call it 'apple pie' but yes" Sam conceded

"And last night, you had a dream of you too burning extra crispy in some weird log cabin?"

"Yes."

"And you think for some unknown reason, she recognized you in the diner?"

"Yes..."

Dean paused for a while as he processed this information. Sam drummed his fingers impatiently on the dashboard of the impala as he waited for a response.

"Well ok then" Dean said suddenly "we best find ourselves some accommodation. We're gonna be here a while"

**Hope you enjoyed! Please review and let me know what you think! Need to know if anybody actually wants this to be continued... I have major cool ideas so please say yes! Thanks for reading it anyway**


	2. Chapter 2

**New chapter! Hooray! Sorry its so short and doubly sorry not much happens... exposition is a bitch...  
Enjoy! xo Taco Tilly**

The diner in which Sam had first found Lyla seemed like a logical place to begin their search and so by 10am the next morning, the Winchester brothers had it staked out. Two stacks of pancakes, one slice of cherry pie and multiple cups of coffee later, it became clear that their main lead had already gone cold.

"Ok..." Dean said slowly, pushing aside his now licked clean pie dish "let me just float this idea by you one more time, Sammy"

"I didn't imagine it Dean" Sam answered curtly, clutching his coffee cup through whitened knuckles. They had been here for more than an hour with still no sign of Lyla.

"Well, it's obviously either her day off or she has a later shift so shall we move ahead to the next step in this thrilling investigation?" Dean asked dryly

"What's that?" Sam asked, lifting his head hopefully.

"We ask somebody" Dean said slowly, as if talking to a child. Squeezing himself over the tattered, red vinyl seat, he strolled casually over to the counter and leant close to the blonde from yesterday with a winning smile. After a few giggles and hair tosses, she obviously came through with information, as Sam watched Dean mime his usual escape strategy. Walking back over with a grin, Dean stopped in front of Sam and jangled the car keys in his face.

"We're going on a road trip, Sammy!"

...

Lyla threw the tattered tennis ball far into the trees and smiled as Bob raced off with a sounding bark of excitement. Clutching her cup of herbal tea, closer to her chest, she closed her eyes and allowed the sun to soak into her skin. It had been a long, long time since she had simply enjoyed a lazy morning. Sitting on the front step of her porch, she thought once again of how lucky she was that Fran had found her. Lyla remembered it like it was yesterday. Walking the streets, blackened and blue from her father's latest burst of anger and trying as hard as she could not to fall to pieces. Her mother had died when she a baby leaving her in the less than capable hands of her father, Jimmy, a disgraced war veteran who was slowly drinking himself to death. She was sixteen, frightened and alone. The only thing that kept Lyla going was the knowledge that in only two years she would be able to leave this small town and start a new life for herself out in the world. She worked part time at another diner, a dimly lit, dirty place several towns over that she had not returned to since her departure.

It was there that she had first met Fran. She had been making the rounds with coffee when she had come across the burst of colour and sound that was Francis Newman. Holding her cup up to Lyla with a delicately aged hand clinking with various rings, she smiled with such a sudden outburst of welcoming warmth that Lyla couldn't help but drink in.

"Pretty necklace" Fran had said to her companionably, as Lyla's shaky hands made messy work of the coffee. Lyla fingered the charm round her neck in just the same fashion she had done seven years as the memory flooded back to her. It had been her mother's; in fact it was all that she had left of the woman who had brought her into this world. A silver necklace carrying a strange symbol that looked like something like a treble clef or the number eight. Lyla still to this day had no idea what it was supposed to mean (perhaps it was simply a meaningless curving of metal) but she had never taken it off since finding it as a child in a chest of drawers in the attic of her house. She liked to think that wearing it brought her closer to the mother she never knew and it acted as a constant comfort.

Lyla smiled ruefully as she recalled how the mousy sixteen year old version of herself had mumbled a reply of "thanks" to Fran's compliment before scurrying off to other tables. She had never been shown random acts of kindness before this time, and it left her disorientated.

Fran stayed long after she had finished her lunch, smiling pleasantly at Lyla as she continued her work around the diner. She made no attempts to speak to her, simply nodding her head when Lyla returned every twenty minutes or so to offer her more coffee. It wasn't until closing time, when Lyla was buttoning her flimsy coat up that Fran spoke at all to her.

"That looks like it stings a bit" She murmured, gesturing to the most recent bruise on Lyla's neck. Lyla whipped around, eyes wide. As much as she hated her home situation she did not want this kind woman involving herself. Jimmy never really appreciated constructive criticism when it came to his parenting tactics and it was usually Lyla who suffered his wrath after visits of any kind from concerned third parties.

"Got hit by a rouge baseball" she had responded, defiantly lifting her chin.

"Play a lot of baseball do ya?" Fran asked to no response.

"It don't have to be like this" she had added more quietly, safe from the loud chatter of the diner. It was comments like this that were constant torture to Lyla. Of course it didn't have to be like this, but that was the way it was and any attempts to suggest otherwise, meant little to her.

"I've got a friend whose looking for some help in his diner a little ways from here. Pays good money upfront. Would be enough for someone to make a fresh start, if they wanted to..." Fran said with a knowing smile. Lyla looked up at her suspiciously. Why was she offering her this? What did she know about her?

"Something worth thinking about..." Fran trailed off, placing a piece of paper in Lyla's hand before leaving the diner with the friendly clang of the bell. The paper had held a phone number. A phone number which Lyla had called the next day. A phone call that had saved her life.

Within a week, Lyla had booked a bus ticket, packed her few belongings and escaped into the night. Away from her father, away from the town's prying eyes, away from her life. She moved into Fran's guest cottage where she insisted on paying rent despite the older woman's protests and slowly began to live. A few months later, when she found a dirty, wet puppy digging through their rubbish cans, their family of three was complete.

And it was a family, Lyla thought with a smile as Bob returned, carrying the tennis ball like a trophy. It really was.

Her peace was interrupted as the sound of a rumbling engine and crunching gravel approached the house. Looking wearily out to the road in case it was Deputy Douchebag returning for another go of it, the blood drained from her face as she recognized the car moving towards Lyla at a panic inducing speed. He'd looked for her! And now, he had found her. Should she hide? Pretend not to be home? They would just see that as an invitation to break in, she thought with a frown. What to do, what to do. Her breathing hitched as she saw them round the corner. Play it cool, she decided quickly. Don't let him know, you know.

Clutching Bob for support, she watched with bated breath as a familiarly gigantic torso emerged from the passenger side. Her visions really hadn't done him justice. His brown daffy hair, warm brown eyes, tanned, toned body... he was every girl's dream. Sam's eyes scanned his surroundings until they locked in on her seated on the steps. He began his approach, setting a steady pace as his brother trailed behind him.

**What a cliffhanger! Haha Next chapter to arrive in the next couple of days, scout's honour! Please, please review! Reviews warm this cold, cold heart of mine (aka give me an incentive to continue writing) I stress again, this story is gonna get pretty epic if you give it a chance... so much angsty romance and funny Bob/Dean antics ahead!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Back for chapter three! Get excited! They finally meet! As always I beg you to review! Let me know what you think! Let me know if there actually is anyone in the world reading my supernatural smut!  
Enjoy!**

She looked everything like he had seen in his visions, yet entirely different. Close up, he saw the details his dreams had skimmed over. The cute quirk of her small button nose, the blue that seeped through the green of her large eyes and her tiny height. She probably wouldn't even reach his shoulders, he mused. Sam saw her watchful eyes take in his approach as she patted the golden retriever's head and he attempted to steady his breathing.

"Can I help you?" She called, standing up and clutching onto the dog's collar. "Do you need directions or something?"

Didn't she know who he was? Sam thought, crestfallen. Had he imagined their interaction at the diner?

"FBI" Dean cut in casually, fishing a badge from his jean pocket and displaying it. "Wondering if we could ask you some questions Lyla..." He trailed off, giving her opportunity to offer her last name. She didn't.

"What about?" she asked coolly, using every fibre of her being to focus on Dean and not the burning brown eyes of the man next to him.

"Can't say much, ongoing investigation and all that..." Dean replied with a friendly smile

"Well then I'm not sure what help I can be then" Lyla responded, her eyes darting for an instant to Sam's face before focusing back on Dean. An action that wasn't missed by the younger brother.

"Could we come inside, show you some photos?" Dean asked "see if anything jogs a memory?"

Her eyes darted to Sam again, with a flash of panic.

"Here's fine" She responded, gesturing to the porch steps. Dean and Sam in response, closed the distance between them in a few casual strides. The golden retriever whose collar identified him as 'Bob' watched them with interest before trotting over and nudging Sam playfully.

"He's beautiful" Sam mumbled, his first attempt at joining the conversation. He patted his silky ears as he had done yesterday and with that overcame his initial hesitation. There was a conversation that had to be had.

...

So much for a guard dog, Lyla thought darkly as she watched Bob happily greet Sam as if they were old friends. Where was his loyalty? Her hands felt awkward and useless without his collar to hold on to. She had no choice but to attempt to casually place them in her lap. She had no reason to be nervous, she reminded herself. Sam would only know so much as she allowed him to, and that was to be nothing.

"There has been a string of murders in the tri-state area over the last few months" Sam began, forcing her to look him in the eyes "Men and women in their early twenties, attacked in their homes at night" He paused for a moment, fixing her with a penetrating stare. "More than a dozen so far"

Lyla paled. Her dreams. She had already seen this.

"Was wondering if you could take a look at a few faces" Dean took over, watching her closely "Try and think if any look familiar. Maybe you've seen them somewhere..." He added with a knowing look.

Lyla took the stack of photos he offered her with shaky hands and stared down at the face of the first victim. He was an attractive, blue eyed mechanic and Lyla recognized him instantly. She had watched him be murdered in cold blood, not two months earlier. The next, a perky dental hygienist from Jersey, who had met her fate after coming home from her engagement party. Page after page of smiling, young faces who had died because she had done nothing to warn them. She swallowed heavily and looked back up at Sam's expectant face.

"Not ringing any bells" She said without emotion, shoving them back into his hands. Lyla noted his look of surprise and felt the smallest amount of smugness. Enough smugness, to overcome the nausea anyway.

"Are you sure about that, Lyla?" Sam pressed, taking a step forward. The first niggling of panic began to spread throughout her body.

"Definitely" She responded quickly and with that stood up and dusted off her shorts. "Well if thats everything..." she began before being interrupted by Sam.

"Lyla" he said gently "if for whatever reason, you did know these people, even if you've never met them, you could tell me" He fixed her with another knowing stare causing Lyla's eyes to widen in panic.

"Can't tell you what I don't know, Sam" She said moving back towards the door. "I really have to get going, so much to do. C'mon Bob!" she called as she opened the porch door for his golden furry body. "Good luck with the investigation. I'm sure you guys will get to the bottom of it all without me" And with one last glance at Sam, shut the door firmly in their faces.

"Well..." Said Dean after a moment of silence, "that was a bust" Stepping off the porch and moving back to the car, he paused to look back at Sam who was yet to move.

"C'mon Sammy, she doesn't know anything" He said impatiently, opening the car door with a creak and drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. Sam followed after a moment, joining him inside with an expression of deep thought.

"She called me Sam" he said after a moment of silence.

"Ummm, well that is your name Sammy boy..." Dean offered helpfully.

"Yeah" Sam agreed with the beginning of a look of satisfaction. "But I didn't introduce myself"

...

It took more than four hours for Lyla to calm herself after her visit from the Winchester brothers. Bob had watched her with mild interest as she had paced from room to room, wringing her hands and mumbling to herself darkly, throwing out expletives here and there in exasperation. He couldn't suspect her, she reassured herself for the hundredth time as she prepared herself for bed. How could he? She had offered no information that could possibly suggest her involvement. None at all, she decided as she flicked off her lamp and snuggled under the covers, reaching out to pat Bob goodnight.

The vision came quickly and much more intensely. As she screamed for Sam and the fire consumed her, her sleeping body convulsed in pain. Waking from the trauma, she fell with a painful thud to the floor and cried out at the pain. She lay there for a few moments in a ball, until she got her breath back before crawling to the lamp on her bedside and illuminating the room in its warm yellow glow. Pushing a frantic Bob away, she got shakily to her feet and approached her bedroom mirror.

Her breath hitched as she took in the angry red welts that coloured her left arm. The arm, she realised with a start, which she had used to shield herself in the vision. It wasn't the first time, her dreams had manifested physical symptoms, but never had they been this extreme. A bump on the head, a bruise here or there...nothing life threatening. This was different, she thought grimly. This was a sign that her dream was not to be ignored. Sinking to the floor in despair, she allowed for Bob to finally approach and whine in sympathy.

"Its alright" she comforted, rubbing his ears. "I'm okay" Resting her head against his, to soothe them both, she set her teeth as the realization of what she was about to do, hit home. Goodbye vision free life, she thought as she got to her feet and pulled on jeans and a sweatshirt. Snatching her coat from its hook behind the door, she walked briskly out the front door, pausing only to hold the door for Bob who tailed her closely.

...

"Alright, take a deep breath Sammy" Dean said soothingly, handing his still shaken brother a glass of water. He had dreamt of the fire again, just as clearly as he had the first time. As soon as Sam had closed his eyes, it had come for him, bringing with it equal measures of agitation and confusion. Why wouldn't Lyla admit she knew him? What was she hiding?

"I'm okay" Sam said, shaking away Dean's attempts to help him stand. He stretched out his tense muscles as he drained the remains of the glass and shuddered. It felt so real.

"Same dream?" Dean questioned gravely, leaning against the tiny table of their motel room. It would be a long time before he forgot the strangled screams of his little brother that had woken him.

"Yep" Sam said in response, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Their conversation was interrupted by a muffled yet distinct knock at the door. Looking at each other in alert, each brother armed themselves quickly and moved towards the source of the sound. Dean peered through and keyhole and let out a murmur of surprise before wrenching it open to reveal a dripping wet Lyla and Bob. Needing no invitation, Bob bounded into the room, shook himself dramatically and sat himself comfortably on Dean's bed, placing his head on his paws and watching the humans with interest.

"umm... hi" Lyla said with more hesitation. She hadn't really planned much past this point. Going to the Winchesters and explaining was good in theory, little more difficult in execution.

"Come in!" Sam said, after getting over his shock. "You must be freezing!" He moved forward and gestured her inside before closing the door with a snap. Springing to action, he raced to the bathroom and came back with a towel which he wrapped securely around her, rubbing her shoulders for warmth. She peered up at him with a grateful smile and mumbled a thankyou. She was tiny, he thought as he looked down at her.

"Alright Sammy, give the girl some air" Dean said after taking in the scene with amusement. Sam's hands immediately left her shoulders, burning. He had forgotten Dean's presence completely.

"Its raining outside" Lyla offered lamely.

"Yeah, we got that" Dean said with a smile. A smile that left his face when he realised whose bed, Bob had taken up residence on. "HEY!" he yelled, making shooing gestures wildy. "Off the bed! Bad dog!" Bob fixed him with a cool stare that clearly said "Really?" before settling more comfortably on the pillow.

"We never really got to the whole "Listening" stage of puppy school" Lyla said with timid smile. "We were more the dig up the petunias, chew the shoes types" Sam chuckled at Dean's expression before taking in the blisters on Lyla's arm.

"What happened?" He demanded, taking her thin wrist into his warm hand and examining it carefully.

"Well, that's kinda why I'm here" Lyla said, trying not to focus on how nice Sam's touch felt. "We should talk"

"Thought that was what we tried to do this afternoon" Dean said coolly, taking a seat begrudgingly on Sam's bed.

Lyla's face went pink as she shakily took a seat across from Sam at the small table.

"I might have been a little less than honest" she admitted, glancing up timidly at Sam's concerned face.

"I kinda figured" He responded, offering her an encouraging smile.

"Do you know me like I know you?" Lyla blurt out unceremoniously, clutching her hands tightly together under the table and looking up at Sam in desperation.

"Yes" He breathed in relief. "How long?" he asked her.

"About a year now... you?" she said

"The same" he replied, nodding.

There was an awkward pause as everyone swallowed that information.

"Have you seen the fire?" She whispered, looking into his eyes with fear. This perked up Dean's ears.

"You've seen it too?" He demanded, moving closer to the two at the table in concern. "The fire in the log cabin?"

She nodded mutely, wishing she had Bob's collar to clutch onto. As if sensing her discomfort, Bob hopped off the bed and padded his way over, laying his head in her lap.

"But that doesn't explain this..." Sam said rubbing his thumb gently over her blistered forearm.

"Doesn't that happen to you sometimes?" Lyla questioned in confusion.

"Doesn't 'what' happen?" Sam asked in equal confusion. "I've never brought a souvenir from my dreams" He watched her face flicker surprise before she set her mouth in a firm line and sat up straighter.

"Well either way, we must be having this dream for a reason. You're in danger" She said decidedly.

"He wasn't the only one tied to a post if I remember correctly, sweetheart" Dean said, glancing at his brother for confirmation.

"I was probably collateral damage in someone's hunt for you" Lyla said confidently before Sam could get a word in. "I mean, in the scheme of things, small town waitress on one hand, renowned demon butt kicker on the other. Its not really a head scratcher."

"Wouldn't be the first time someone wanted one of us dead" Dean mused, tapping his finger thoughtfully on his chin. "We aren't very popular amongst the undead crowds for some reason..."

"But we can't just discount the fact that you're in the dream as well" Sam protested loudly, fixing Lyla with a look of disbelief.

"Of course we can" Lyla said dismissively, rubbing Bob's head for comfort.

"How old are you?" Dean asked Lyla out of the blue with an unreadable expression.

"twenty-two" she responded in confusion looking between the two brothers who were sharing a look of understanding

"You're on the demon hit list" Dean informed her tactfully.

"Dean, we don't know that" Sam chided his older brother, turning back to Lyla's mystified expression.

"I'm on the what?" She asked.

"The photos we showed you this afternoon..." Sam began delicately

"The people who died?"

"Yeah," Sam confirmed "They were all about our age and as far as we can tell, they all had powers of some sort"

"Powers?" Lyla questioned, her brow knitting.

"You know, like us" Sam explained "Some had visions; others could move things with their minds... or control people's actions."

"Freak squad stuff" Dean added before being silenced by a cold stare from his younger brother.

"How is that possible?" Lyla asked in disbelief.

"I don't know, how is it we have visions?" Sam asked in response, lifting his hands in surrender. There was another awkward moment of silence as the two brothers watched Lyla take in this information through deep breaths.

"Okay," she began "what you're saying is that I am part of a select group of individuals who for whatever reason have these abnormal "powers" and I use that word lightly, a group of individuals that is being slowly picked off one by one by some undisclosed evil thing, an evil thing who plans to burn me alive in some type of camping trip gone awry... does that about cover it?"

"That about sums it up" Sam agreed.

"Well then" Lyla said getting to her feet and pushing her chair in.

"Where are you going?" Sam asked in surprise.

"Anywhere but here" she replied before marching over to the door and disappearing into the raining night.

"Wait!" yelled Sam, scrambling to his feet and following her out into the car-park.

Bob and Dean stayed seated in the warm motel room, eyeing each other and the door.

"I will if you will" Dean offered.

Bob, taking another long look at the door, lay back down on the floor and yawned.

"Good call" Dean said in agreement, settling himself more comfortably in his chair, happy to wait until they returned.

**Just another oh so annoying reminder to please review! Now that the ball is well and truly and rolling and I'm kindly updating every few days, you are obligated to tell me where my story falls on the  
crap-o-meter. Please review! Ch4 will come sooner if there are more reviews!**


	4. Chapter 4

**New chapter! (pause for dramatic effect) Read it and then review! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please! Please!**

This couldn't be happening, Lyla thought as she walked steadily against the torrential downpour pushing against her. This couldn't be what her dreams meant. She was a small town waitress who happened to have visions. She wasn't on some 'demon hit list'. She wasn't 'meant for something'! She was meant for cleaning booths and looking after Bob. That was it! Hadn't the last three months proved that she thought, pushing back her wet hair and swatting the tears that had mixed with the rainwater in her eyes.

"Lyla!" she heard a voice call from behind her. "Wait... Please!" Sam's calls simply pushed her into a light jog. She couldn't face him. Not now, not like this. She was meant to have a normal life, her mind screamed. He wasn't supposed to be real! Sam was supposed to be the one ordinary thing in her life. Just a common female fantasy to break the monotony of her small town life.

"Lyla!" She heard him call again, from a closer distance than last time. Breaking into a full fledged sprint, Lyla pushed her body down the highway, frantically trying to put as much space between them.

"Leave me alone!" she yelled as much to Sam, as to the heavens. "I'm normal! I am a normal person!" Choking on her own sobs, she ran with everything she had. Despite being a track star in high school, the fact that Sam's legs were twice the length of her own began to take its toll and she could hear his breathing becoming louder and louder as he caught up to her. Lyla was just considering pivoting into the trees on the side of the road when she felt a great weight push her from behind. Despite Sam's obvious attempts to cushion her fall with his own body, the breath was still knocked out of her with an 'oomph' as they skidded onto the slicked road.

"Get off me!" Lyla screeched, pushing and clawing at his torso. It was useless however as it took Sam minimal strength to pin down her arms on either side of her head.

"Stop!" He yelled, trying to hold her down in the least intimidating manner he could. "I'm not going to hurt you"

"No!" Lyla yelled frantically struggling against his grip. "I won't let you do this! I won't be this person!"

"What are you talking about?" Sam bellowed over the pouring rain, still restraining her.

"I can't do this again!" Lyla said, her voice breaking. "I've lost too many already. I won't try just to watch them die!" Her breathing hitched as her fight weakened. "I'm nobody! I'm not part of anything"

Sam looked down at her, his hold softening as she collapsed into sobs. Picking her up and bringing her to his chest, he did the only thing he could. He held her. He held Lyla tightly to his own body, cushioning her against his neck and resting his chin on the top of her head as she cried.

Lyla wasn't sure how long they sat in the rain together off highway 63. It could have been minutes or it could have been hours. But sometime later, her crying stopped and she realized how cold she was. Perhaps Sam noticed too, as he gently released her and suggested they get a hot cup of coffee. Nodding mutely, Lyla followed him a little down the road to a quiet roadhouse where they were ushered into a tattered old booth and served two cups of quite possibly the worst coffee ever brewed. They sat in silence for a while. Lyla fiddled with her napkin as she felt the strength of Sam's stare from across the side of the table. She was so embarrassed. The kind of a crazy mental breakdown he had witnessed was the kind you revealed ten years into marriage, not 24 hours after meeting someone. How did someone attempt to come back and appear normal after that?

"I'm sorry" Sam heard her whisper, meeting his eyes for a second before glancing back down at the table. She clutched her napkin tightly in her hand as if for strength and met his eyes once again. "How often do you get visions?" she asked him quietly.

"I don't know…" Sam said, perplexed by the question. "I guess every couple of months or so… Why?"

"It's… different for me" Lyla said carefully "it's… worse than that." Clearing her throat she looked up at him. "Until three months ago, I had visions every night. I couldn't close my eyes without seeing blood… and death. When I realized what was happening… when I saw their faces on the news or in a newspaper, I did everything I could to warn them. I tracked them all down and tried to explain… or just… help" she said in despair, looking down at the table once again.

"How many?" Sam asked quietly, his knuckles whitening as he clutched the table between them.

"Dozens. I did save some of them," Lyla added, as much for her own benefit as Sam's, "but mostly, they just… died. I couldn't do anything"

"That must have been…" Sam didn't quite know what word to use. He shook his head and waited for her to continue.

"I couldn't do it anymore" Lyla said "So I didn't. I just stopped doing anything about the dreams. I took all this herbs and tonics my neighbor gave me and I just… stopped. The longer it went on the more I could sleep through a whole night without seeing them. I just gave up." Looking up at Sam through tear filled eyes she whispered "I let them die"

"No." Sam said reaching across the table and taking her hand in his own. "Don't do that. Don't blame yourself."

"Who else is there to blame" Lyla asked, taking her hand from his and placing it in her lap. Taking a deep breath, her expression became resolute"

"What exactly is the plan from here?"

Sam paused for a moment, studying the girl he had dreamed about for the last two years.

"Dean and I hang around for the next couple of days and we wait."

"Wait for what?" Lyla questioned, her forehead creasing.

"We wait for this demon to make a move… and when he does, we kill it"

Lyla nodded, taking this in. "And until then?"

"Until then, you don't leave our sight" Sam said determinedly.

Lyla frowned at this. "What do you mean?"

"He means…" Dean said sliding into the booth next to Lyla, "that until further notice, you will be under 24 hour Winchester security darling". Grinning, he reached for a menu and opened it expectantly.

"Do you think they have pie here?"

Lyla peered at him in mild disgust for a moment before realization hit her.

"Where's Bob?"

"Who?" Dean queried, looking up from his menu.

"My dog!" Lyla said, about to get up from her seat.

"Oh fleabag, he's fine" Dean said waving a hand for her to sit. "He's just outside"

Sam winced as Lyla got to her feet angrily, shoving past a baffled Dean.

"What?" Dean exclaimed, lifting his hands in protest as Sam fixed him with a glare. "Dog's love water!"

"We're going." Sam said snatching the menu out of Dean's hand and throwing a few bills on the table. He saw through the window that Lyla was comforting a very wet and disgruntled looking Bob and quickly made his way outside.

"Sorry bout Dean" Sam said attempting a light tone "He's never been accused of being an animal lover" Shifting from foot to foot, he tried not to notice how her wet shirt clung to her body as she leant down to pat Bob.

"He's been through worse" Lyla said with a small smile as Dean joined them outside.

"Okay, well thanks for everything" Lyla said straightening up and looking between the Winchester brothers. "I have to go home and wash this crappy day off me. I'll see you sometime tomorrow."

"Actually, I thought we would come with you" Sam said stepping closer.

"What? Back to my house?" Lyla squeaked

"That's kinda how 24 hour Winchester security works" Dean explained with a smile. "How bout Sammy comes home with you and Bob tonight and I go back to the motel. We can meet up tomorrow at your diner"

"well… I mean…" Lyla stuttered

"Great" Dean confirmed with a grin, turning toward the impala. "Jump in"

Sam smiled shyly and went around to open the door for her. As Bob jumped in without abandon, Lyla was forced to do the same. Squeezing into the back seat, across the cool leather, a whole new type of panic set in. She was going to be alone with Sam in her house. All. Night. Clutching Bob's fur for support she spent the short trip deep in thought, planning her strategy. By the time they pulled up along side her cottage, she was ready. Waving absentmindedly to Dean as he drove off, Lyla briskly led Sam up the pathway into the house. Gesturing him inside, she turned on a few lights and grabbed a few towels from the cupboard.

"Here" she said, throwing him one of them. "You can take the first shower if you want. It's just through the kitchen"

"Are you sure?" Sam questioned, suddenly feeling the need to be overly formal. "I don't mind if you want to jump in first"

"No" Lyla said quickly, "I have to dry off Bob anyway"

"oh, okay" Sam said, nodding. "I'll try and be quick" Grabbing his things be walking towards the bathroom and throwing another glance back at Lyla, closed the bathroom door. Bob looked away from the bathroom to look up curiously at his master.

"It's going to be a long night" Lyla whispered, patting his head.

**Next chapter coming soon!**


End file.
